The Boy Who Thought He Had No Choice
by gwenlynn93
Summary: Draco Malfoy thought he couldn't change his fate. But when the Death Eaters bring Luna Lovegood to Malfoy Manor as a hostage, he finds reason to hope again. Begins halfway through the Deathly Hallows.
1. Chapter 1 - The Day She Came

**Story Title:** The Boy Who Thought He Had No Choice

 **Author:** Gwenlynn93

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. But I wish this had happened.

 **Introduction:** Hello readers! (and possible Druna shippers) I've wanted to give Draco a second chance for a long time, and I had this idea the other day. I might be a slow writer. And if you're reading, feel free to critique, because I'm pretty amateur! Anyways, no more need be said. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - The Day She Came**

Draco Malfoy lay curled in the middle of the cold floor in his bedroom, sweat droplets leaving shiny tracks on his face, mingling with another moisture, which he kept swiping away, almost angrily.

He flinched and curled tighter as an inhuman scream echoed through the Manor, tearing at him. It was a girl's scream, and Draco knew who's.

He could see her on the backs on his eyelids, her slim body writhing on the ornamental rug before the drawing-room fireplace, long, platinum-blonde curls tangled, silvery-blue eyes wide with pain.

 _No!_ He pinched his eyes tighter, trying to push the image away, and was instead confronted with one of his father, Lucius Malfoy. The strong jawline, sweeping pale hair, and crooked smirk made Draco's despair even deeper, for the same face stared back at him from every mirror he looked into.

His father, a Death Eater, perhaps even the very person torturing the girl downstairs.

The screams faded to whimpers, mixed with the harsh tones of Dolohov, McNair, and several voices he didn't yet recognize from the more recently-recruited Death Eaters.

Draco was glad he couldn't hear their words.

He rolled himself into a sitting position, head in his hands, utterly miserable. _Why did I ever want to be one of them?_

There was a knock at the door. "Draco?" said a voice. _Mother._

"Hang on," he managed, scrambling to his feet, shaking out his crumpled robes, and running a hand through his tousled hair before unlocking and opening the door.

Narcissa Malfoy stood in the hall, her lined face devoid of emotion, wearing a set of fancy robes. "My son. I trust you are well?"

The formality was hardly new to Draco, as a pureblood, and he felt his own mask slide into place as he replied in kind, "Yes, mother," he found the words slipping off his tongue as they always did, "but I would prefer to be left alone. I'm sure you must understand."

She flinched slightly.

He knew it was wrong of him to allude to her lack of parental guidance in such a cruel and pointed manner, but the words were out now. He couldn't take them back.

"Be down for dinner tonight," she said coldly, meeting his eyes steadily. "Your father had been inquiring as to your absence the last two evenings. You would do well not to anger him." And with those words, she turned away, heels clicking on the shining hall floor, robes swishing.

Draco watched her leave, something like regret bitter in his heart. He couldn't think of a time when she'd been anything like a real mother to him, or a time when she'd stood up to Lucius, but somewhere deep inside, he knew she loved him, in her own distant manner.

He didn't see her lean against a tapestry out of sight, blinking tears out of her eyes, her breath hitching. He never heard her whispered, "Oh, Draco!" before she calmed herself and proceeded down the staircase.

Instead, he pulled out his wand and locked the door with a simple _alohomora_ , hands still shaking a little.

The Manor was silent once more, the Lovegood girl's whimpers silenced, which Draco hoped didn't mean they'd killed her. He doubted it, however. The Death Eaters needed her to keep her crazy old father from writing things in the Quibbler they didn't like.

 _Loony Lovegood._ The eccentric yearmate he'd often made fun of, along with most of the school. He could remember her skipping down the halls, wearing the strangest outfits, multicoloured paper glasses, and usually barefoot, chattering to anyone who would listen about her father's latest fool imaginings.

 _It's odd_ , he mused, _how Potter and his lot sort of adopted her after fifth year. She was in "Dumbledore's Army", even._

Draco no longer felt pride for his role in the discovery of the secret Defense club. Instead, remorse, shame, and some regret filled his gut, just thinking of it.

He missed school. He missed the old castle, with its ever-changing staircases, talking portraits, and secret passages. He missed his four-poster bed, and the Slytherin common room under the lake.

Most of all, he missed Potions.

And he could never return, not after what he's done.

All of it, to stay alive and please his Master.

The same Master he dreaded facing tonight, at dinner. For the Dark Lord would be there. He always was.

Draco wished the Dark Lord would leave him and his family in peace. He wished the Dark Lord would-

He refused to let that train of thought go any further, and instead, the beginnings of an idea formed in the back of his mind.

* * *

... ** _late night_** …

In the cellar of Malfoy Manor, a very blonde slip of a girl sat, her back against the stone wall in the darkness, listening to the irregular breathing of her new cellmate, the man who'd made her wand.

Luna was tired.

She wanted to sleep, and knew she should rest her aching body, but something was keeping her awake. Despite being taken from her own home and surviving the pain of two Cruciatus curses, she wasn't tired. If Daddy were here, he would come up with a good reason for her insomnia.

Maybe it was a dabberblimp. She wished she could ask him.

But he wasn't here.

And she was glad. She didn't want him to be here, in the place Voldemort was living, watching his little Luna tortured.

She missed him.

There were footsteps on the stone steps outside her prison.

Lune slumped. She'd hoped they were done with her, and that she could be left alone down here, safe. Safe from cruel men and their illegal spells.

The lock clicked, and the door swung open a crack, a thin beam of light illuminating the floor.

 _Please,_ she thought hard, _forget me. Go away._

She was surprised to see a pale, long-fingered hand and forearm curl around the bottom of the mostly-closed door, depositing two apples just inside before disappearing. The person then relocked the door.

The footsteps faded.

Luna crawled to the door and felt for the fruit, heart beating fast.

 _Someone cares. Someone in this nightmare actually cares._

But who?


	2. Chapter 2 - Perspectives

**Author Note: I'm glad so many people liked this idea, though I had no idea it was so often used for Draco/Luna fanfics! I don't really read fanfiction, I just write it, so I wouldn't have a clue.**

 **I took the names Brekky and Levvy from Anne B. Walsh (fanfic profile: whydoyouneedtoknow) in her Dangerverse stories. If you like Harry Potter, look her up. One of the most talented writers I know.**

 **Anyways, I present to you the second chapter of The Boy Who Thought He Had No Choice.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Perspectives**

Draco found himself whistling cheerfully as he dressed the next morning. The light feeling lasted as he made his way down to the kitchens at ten, carefully avoiding Goyle's dad as he passed in the main hall.

Downstairs, the kitchen was mostly quiet. One house-elf scurried about busily, cleaning a sinkful of copper pans from breakfast. The smell of bacon lingered in the air, and Draco's stomach growled.

Watching the funny little creature's ears flap slightly as it scrubbed, he realized that he had no idea what its name was.

He'd never bothered to know.

House-elves were not seen or heard in the Manor, as at Hogwarts. They were expected to serve and do their work silently and invisibly. The only times Draco ever saw any of the three Malfoy house-elves were when they were specifically sent for, or when he came to the kitchens for snacks.

The elf, wearing an old grey tea towel, turned, its face lighting up when it saw him.

"Master Draco! What is you wanting, little Master?"

 _Always 'little Master'. First Dobby, now these ones. I'm not exactly little anymore._

"Breakfast," he replied, "I missed it."

"Naughty Master," the elf clucked a little. "Master's father told us elves not to be giving Master Draco food if you is late."

"Please? I'm really hungry, and I slept in by accident. I won't tell, I promise."

A pair of luminous pale brown eyes met his own, and then the little creature sighed and turned away. "Yes, little Master. Levvy will make you breakfast."

A moment later, Draco found himself seated at the rough wooden table, scarfing down a plate of cold ham and scones, while the elf watched, a pleased smile on its wrinkly face.

Halfway through a scone, Draco stopped and stared at the elf, a sudden thought occurring to him.

"Levvy, what are the other house-elves called?"

Levvy stared at him, unsure. "Levvy's brother is Brekky. Brekky's wife is being called Flory. But I doesn't has a wife."

Draco didn't stop to think about house-elves having wives and families, instead barrelling straight into the topic he was most concerned with.

"Are the prisoners being taken care of? Do the house-elves bring them food?" He imagined the dark cellar from last night, with Mr. Ollivander curled on the cold stones.

Levvy's eyes darkened. "They is poorly looked after, Master. Master Lucius is putting strong magic on the cellar, and telling the house-elves to be staying away. We is not to bring food. But Mr. Pettigrew is getting sent downstairs once a day and bringing them a little. The elves dare not disobey Master's father, though we wants to."

And the elf suddenly surged forward and smashed his head on the table, twice, staggering back dizzily.

Draco felt awful. No one should be treated with such disrespect. Not even Loony Lovegood. The thought of her surviving in this hellhole was surprisingly appealing. Maybe he could claim her, somehow, and lock her up in one of the guest rooms instead.

He made up his mind to go down again that evening, and try see if she would talk to him. She probably hated him, along with the rest of his schoolmates. But he could try.

The thought made him feel slightly better, and he used the back stairs to return to the second floor. He stopped in the doorway to his room and looked around at his giant four-poster with its blue curtains, his wardrobe, desk, and bookshelf.

His eyes settled on the trunk against the wall under the window, still mostly packed from his hopeless escape from Hogwarts last spring. His father had taken it back through the Vanishing Cabinet the night Draco had brought Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

He's taken out most of his clothes and left it alone, not being able to face looking at his school supplies. He could remember that night as if it were yesterday, the night he'd knelt before the Dark Lord, a failure, a teenager who didn't have the guts to kill a man, and endured the waves of pain inflicted upon him, to return to his own room, broken and hurt, instead of victorious.

Now, he went over to the trunk and opened the lid, staring down at the neatly folded school robes, textbooks, quills, some packed inside his cauldron along with his potion ingredients, and his Nimbus two-thousand and one, shrunk to fit into the space.

Draco pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion Making and ran a thumb over the cover. It reminded him sharply of school, and classes, and a regular stream of homework.

He lifted out his stack of books and laid them on the desk, along with quills, ink, and several rolls of parchment, lining them up in a neat row.

Just because he couldn't ever go back to Hogwarts didn't mean he couldn't finish his magical education.


	3. Chapter 3 - Ferrodium--Wait, What?

**Author Note: The song is "Beren & Luthien" from J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings", though it doesn't have an actual tune. In the movie, Aragorn sings a small part of it in Elvish, and it's soft and haunting. I love Luna.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Ferrodium...Wait, What?**

Luna stared at her bare toes, stretched out in front of her, watching the light fade to grey. The toes were white and bloodless, and rather cold.

She wished for her sneakers, or socks, but they were at home, lying on the floor by her bedroom door, forgotten.

The winter chill was slowly seeping through her body.

Mr. Ollivander lay beside her, not having moved since she'd arrived. He was breathing, but barely.

She picked up the cup of water from beside her and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Ollivander?"

No answer.

"Mr. Ollivander, drink some water. I'm afraid you'll die, sir, if you don't."

There was no sign he'd heard her. His eyes remained closed, breathing the same. She took a sip of the water herself, and began to hum the beginning of an old song, a ballad her father and mother used to sing together on starry summer nights on the front porch.

When she was out of intro, she began to sing the words to herself. The tune was soft and low, and reverberated quietly through the empty cellar.

It was a story, a whimsical story about a man who came upon an Elf maiden dancing in the forest, her long hair like a shadowy curtain around her, with stars woven through it. It told of how the man caught her as she fled, and how they fell in love.

There was a sound outside the door, and Luna sang a little louder.

The second half of the song was about how the Elf maiden set aside her immortality to marry the man, and after many adventures together, how she died.

The singer found herself blinking back tears. It was so beautiful, and so sad.

As the last note was swallowed by the silence, she heard a soft intake of breath.

There was someone else out there.

"I know you're there," she said. "It's all right, you can come in."

A thin, lithe form slipped into the cellar, closing the door, and Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly above her, the premature lines on his young face deeply shadowed. He set down a package and a folded blanket and made to leave.

Luna smiled and patted the floor next to her. "Hello, Draco. I'm glad to see you."

He swallowed and edged over to her, folding himself gracefully down beside her. "Loo-Luna. You mean you don't hate me?"

 _Hate you?_ "Hate you? Whatever for?"

He stared at her in surprise. "For treating you like dirt all those years, and letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts. You should hate me. Everyone else does."

"Draco, my daddy always told me to hate the action, not the person doing it. I don't hate you. You couldn't help the things you did! Maybe you even thought you were right!" She suppressed her giggles at his astonishment.

"How can you say that? How do you know?"

"Well," she began, "it's simple, really. When someone like Voldemort or your father walks around hating someone else and thinking bad things all the time, their feelings sort of leak into the people around them, especially if the other people aren't very strong-willed. It's called 'ferrodium'."

His grey eyes glazed over, and he frowned at her. "Ok, then...ferrodium."

Luna nodded gravely. "I think Voldemort does it a lot. That's how the Death Eaters came to be."

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, and he gazed determinedly at the floor. "How can you say the Dark Lord's name like that? Aren't you afraid of him?"

She brightened, remembering the episode with the Weasley twins and the DA. "Harry told us it's not the name that's scary. Voldemort is. He says they often call him funny names, to keep from getting too scared. Moldy Voldy and His Snakiness, and things like that."

Draco laughed. She liked that. He sounded less mean and cruel when he laughed.

Finally, he said. "What was it you were singing?"

"It's an old ballad, written a long time ago. It's about an elf woman who gave up her immortal life to love a mortal man. I rather like it, don't you?"

He shrugged. "I guess. I liked hearing you sing it."

"Thank you." Then, "So, have you decided yet?"

"Decided...what do you mean?"

She picked at her knotted curls, fixing her gaze on him. "What side you're going to take in the War. You haven't decided, I don't think."

Once again, she'd startled him. "How do you know?"

"You're different, Draco Regulus Malfoy, even I can see it. You've changed. And you haven't admitted it yet, but you wish Harry Potter would win, and you'd have a chance to start over."

"Luna Lovegood, are you a Seer? And how do you know my middle name?"

She laughed. "Professor Trelawny's a Seer, Draco. I'm just good at reading people. As for your name, I won't tell. Everyone has to have secrets, or no one would be interesting."

He ran a hand through his immaculate blonde hair, unintentionally messing it up.

She smiled. She thought he looked rather dashing like that. More devil-may-care.

He pulled the folded cloth napkin towards himself, and laid it on her lap. "I should go, before I'm caught."

"Scones? Thank you, Draco."

As he scrambled to his feet, she reached out and tugged his jumper sleeve. "Will you come back? It got awfully lonely down here today. I like talking to you."

He nodded.

At the door, he turned again, silhouetted against the light from upstairs. "I'll think about what you said."

And then he was gone.

Luna munched a scone in the dark, thinking about ferrodium and how to reverse it. She didn't know if she could, but she could try.

He deserved a second chance.


	4. Chapter 4 - False Front

**Author Note: Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4 - False Front**

Draco fiddled with the food on his plate, extremely aware of his Aunt Bellatrix's chin-on-hand adoration of the Dark Lord at his right elbow. Her laugh was starting to bother him, and not for the first time.

The Dark Lord sat at the head of the table, the centre of attention, as always, his pet snake, Nagini, curled on a cushion next to him.

He laughed softly at a suggestion from Rudolphus Lestrange, and then turned his snake-like gaze on the rest of the table's occupants.

"I believe introductions are in order," he murmured. The table was silent, waiting politely. "May I introduce to you all our newest arrivals: Casca and Iago Thaliard," two identical blonde men Draco had seen at the summer pureblood social season, "and Lucretia Varro." A young woman with a round face and brown hair nodded slightly. "These three share our views on many topics, including that of pureblood supremacy. I have invited them to Join us here, as their families do not hold such beliefs."

Draco looked the three new Death Eaters over inconspicuously, matching names to faces.

He couldn't say he'd seen Varro before, but he remembered the Thaliard twins, mainly because of their younger sister Madeline's advances on Draco through the previous summer, ending with her nearly falling from a third-storey balcony after throwing herself at him in an attempt to kiss him.

He shuddered.

The Dark Lord smiled benevolently around at them all, as if they were his own children.

"I expect you all to make yourself acquainted with our new recruits in the near future. Each of them has a set of skills they are willing to lend to our noble cause. The Thaliards are excellent at dueling, and Miss Varro is good with magical creatures. We will be sending her and McNair out once our envoys to the giants return. You are to help them feel at home here."

"My lord," Yaxley ventured, "do you wish to hear about our advances at the Ministry?"

The Dark Lord leaned back and relaxed. "Ah, you read my mind. How is the cleansing coming?"

"Rather well, after the incident with Madam Umbridge. We've renewed our efforts to search out mudbloods and blood traitors."

"Excellent, excellent. And how does Severus say the work at Hogwarts is coming?"

Draco perked up.

Yaxley swallowed. "Snape has reported missing students, students who seem to vanish overnight. Amycus thought there might be a hiding place in the castle."

"And the missing students...they happen to be the ones they are searching for, I suppose?"

"Yes, my lord. The families have been properly questioned and their homes searched, but there is no sign that they returned there. They attempted using Veritaserum on the other students, but Snape's supply was diminished long before they discover anything."

"Be sure the efforts carry on, Yaxley." The Dark Lord fingered his wand- Lucius Mafloy's wand-tenderly. "You control the Ministry and the Minister of Magic, essentially, the British magical world. These students are mere children, after all. They cannot stay hidden forever. Tell Severus I wish to speak with him soon."

Draco thought about hiding places at Hogwarts. There _was_ a place the missing students could all have gone...a place Draco knew very well himself. It would be clever of the DA to ask the place he was thinking of to supply a safe place for hunted kids. The Carrows must be going mad. He hoped no one would remember the Room of Requirement and the Vanishing Cabinet.

He heard his name. "Yes?"

Lucius sighed slightly, turning to him. "Answer the Dark Lord, Draco."

The teenager's heart began to thud. "I'm sorry, sir. I must've been lost in thought."

"A valid past-time," the crimson gaze rested on him. "Tell me, Draco: how are you enjoying our little prisoner downstairs? I hear you 'visit' the Lovegood girl rather often."

The blonde paled, then flushed furiously. _Someone was watching me go down._

The occupants of the dinner table laughed, and the Dark Lord smiled at his own wit.

Draco gathered his nerve, and plastered on his 'Death-Eater's-son-and-proud-of-it' expression.

 _Double meanings? I can do double meanings._

"I don't know," he drawled carelessly. "She's rather a weak little thing, for a pureblood. Not my first choice, but she'll do." _Forgive me, Luna._

Again everyone chuckled.

He waited a moment, then, to Lucius, "Father, may I _have_ her?"

The man smirked. Draco could feel his mother's disappointed eyes on him, but he knew he couldn't look at her, or the mask would slip.

"That depends," Lucius looked thoughtful. "She could become a security rink if not properly subdued. I understand she's addled in the head."

Draco draped himself back across his chair, tipping it back a little, grinning.

"I have a wand, father, and I'm not afraid to use it."

Several Death Eaters choked or snickered, and Lord Voldemort actually laughed.

"Let him have the girl, Lucius," he said generously.

Lucius glanced a Draco and nodded. "You'll be keeping her upstairs, I presume?"

The son smirked. "By all means, father. Perhaps she can become my...motivation." He breathed a sigh of relief as the laughter faded and the conversation moved on to another topic.

He hated the image the Death Eaters received of Draco Malfoy, Lucius's spoiled son, who didn't care about anyone but himself. It was a mask.

Every time he talked to Luna, he found himself a little more, the _real_ him, the person beneath all the layers.

After dinner, he sauntered down the stone steps and into the cellar.

"Draco!" Luna scrambled up, and he was shocked to see tears running down her thin cheeks.

He went to her, and looked where she was pointing. "Mr. Ollivander's gone, Draco. He just wasted away down here, and now he's dead."

And she flung her arms round his neck, burying her face in his dress robes.

Draco stood frozen.

He never let anyone touch him, except Pansy, on occasion, hating the contact. But here Luna was, crying on his shoulder, her arms tight around him.

Trying to slow his racing heart, he reached around and held her, hoping he was doing it right. He knew his cheeks were pink, any thoughts of Mr. Ollivander gone from his head.

"Luna," he said softly, pulling away. She sniffed and smiled at him.

"Thank you, Draco," she wiped her eyes on her dirty sleeve. "I'll be all right now. He's in a better place than this, now. I hope he can make wands there, because it makes him happy."

He couldn't help smiling back. "Luna, I've come to take you out of here. Father gave me permission to take you to live in my room, though he thinks of you as nothing more than an animal, really. But there's a cot I'll sleep on, and I promise I won't bother you unless you want me to."

She laughed and twirled in a circle. "That sounds lovely! Do you have a window?"

"A big one. And it has a window seat and all."

"And books?"

"Loads."

"I'd like that. Then we can talk lots, and I won't be alone."

"You don't mind everyone thinking I'm...you know…" he swallowed.

Another laugh. "But you won't, Draco, so I don't care what they all think. That's what really matters."

He marvelled at her honesty. Even after two weeks of talking to her, he was still pleasantly surprised.

"Come on, silly," she trotted to the open door, looking back at him. "What are we waiting for?"


	5. Chapter 5 - Secret Message

**Author Note: Most of this chapter is J.K. Rowling's. I'm generally going to assume you've read the book, and not put in everything, but I thought this might be necessary for a reminder. And it leads into my own spin-off.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5 - Secret Message**

Far away, a boy with black hair and a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning lay under a pile of rubble, several copies of The Quibbler pressed up against his cheek from the printing press that had fallen over the stairs. He tried to catch his breath, but choked on dust.

Hermione, white with plaster dust, appeared next to him, a finger against her lips.

Downstairs, the door crashed open, and the angry voices of Death Eaters mixed with Xenophilius Lovegood's whimpers of pain and protest.

"No, no, I beg you!" the man cried. "It really is Potter! Really!"

There was a crash, and some squeals of agony from him.

"This place looks like it's about to fall in, Selwyn," the Death Eater named Travers observed. "The stairs are completely blocked. Could try cleaning it? Might bring the place down."

"You lying piece of filth," shouted Selwyn. "You've never seen Potter in your life, have you? Thought you'd lure us here to kill us, did you? And you think you'll get your girl back like this?"

"Potter's upstairs...I swear!"

Hermione gasped as a _homenum revelio_ charm swooped through the floor and down onto Harry.

"There's someone up there, Selwyn," Travers said sharply.

"It's Potter, I tell you!" Mr. Lovegood's voice was despairing. "Please...please, give me Luna, just let me have her!"

"You can have her if you go up those stairs and bring down Harry Potter. If it's a trick, and there's someone up there ready to ambush us, we might be able to spare a bit of your daughter for you to bury."

There was a wail, and Harry heard Mr. Lovegood clambering through the debris up the stairs.

"Come on," he hissed, "we have to get out."

He dug himself out under cover of the racket Mr. Lovegood was making as he tried to climb through the rubble, and helped Hermione unearth Ron, who was stuck under a chest of drawers.

"All right," breathed Hermione, "Do you trust me?"

They both nodded.

"Ron, you need to put on the Invisibility Cloak."

"Me?" Ron looked astonished, "But what about Harry-"

"Just _do_ it! Harry, hold my hand, and Ron, grab my shoulder."

Ron vanished under the Cloak, and they waited.

Harry wondered why.

Then, the printing press that was blocking the staircase moved, and Mr. Lovegood's face appeared.

" _Obliviate_!" Hermione cried, pointing her wand at him. Then, " _Deprimo_!" at the floor beneath them.

A hole blasted in the floor, and they fell through. The Death Eaters downstairs yelled and dove out of the way as the house began to collapse, broken furniture raining down, along with rubble and plaster.

Then, in the middle of falling, Hermione twisted, dragging Harry and Ron with her, and they were gone.

* * *

Harry lay in a field, panting, as Hermione ran around, casting the privacy and safety spells around them.

Ron pulled off the Cloak and tossed it to Harry. "Hermione, you're a genius! I can't believe we got out!"

"I _told_ him it was an Erumpent horn! And now his house is blown apart!" she exclaimed.

"Serves him right," Ron muttered. "What do you think they'll do to him?"

"I hope they don't kill him!" she replied. "That's why I wanted those Death Eaters to catch a glimpse of Harry before I Apparated, so they'd know Mr. Lovegood wasn't lying!"

"Why did I have to hide?" Ron asked.

"Because," she said, "you're supposed to be sick in bed with spattergroit! Who knows what they'd do to your family if they knew you were here! Look at what happened to Luna!"

"You're a genius," Ron said for the second time.

"Yeah, you are," Harry agreed. "We wouldn't last a day without you."

She beamed, but then her face fell.

"What about Luna?"

"Well, if they're not lying about her being alive-" Ron ventured.

"She _has_ to be alive!" Hermione squealed. "She _must_!"

"I guess they'll have brought her to Azkaban, then," Ron said bleakly. "She couldn't survive there...loads don't…"

"She will," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "She's tough, Luna is."

As Hermione reached into her bag to pull out the tent, a silver fox Patronus burst through their wards.

" _Harry, wherever you are_ ," Luna's soft voice issued from the Patronus, " _don't worry about me, and please don't come looking for me. I'm safe, as safe as I can be, and I've found a friend, someone you know. He sends his greetings, and says good luck with whatever you're doing to win the war. Don't think too badly of Daddy. He's all right, really, just scared._ "

The fox dissolved.

The three teenagers stared at the empty bit of grass where it had been, and then at each other.

Ron frowned. "How did she know we were at Lovegoods'?"

Hermione smiled. "She has a friend, and it's someone we know."

Harry shook his head. "I wish she'd told us."

* * *

Luna passed Draco his wand and leaned out to pull the window closed.

"I hope it works."

Draco smiled, sliding the wand into his robes, and seated himself across from her. "I think it should. I'm glad Potter and Granger got away. Surprised the Weasel's not with them."

She smoothed her freshly-washed hair and gave him a thoughtful look. "Perhaps he is, and Voldemort's men didn't see him."

"You're probably right. I can't imagine those three not together. Aren't you worried about you father?"

She sighed. "A little. I'm trying not to. The Death Eaters left him alone after the roof fell in, and he can take care of himself."

"I'm surprised he told them Harry was there."

"Draco, I'm the only person in the world he has left. He'll do anything to get me back. That's why I sent him a Patronus, too. Maybe he can be happy if he knows I'm safe and happy."

* * *

Xenophilius Lovegood dragged himself out of the rubble, feeling lost and confused.

He felt like he should remember his house falling in, but he couldn't.

He crawled outside and sat down on the front step, thinking.

She was still gone.

A tear traced through the grime. He reached out and picked one of the Dirigible Plums off the bush, staring at it. _My Luna's gone._

A shining silver animal trotted up beside him. " _Daddy,_ " his daughter's voice echoed in the dusk. " _I'm safe, and I have a new friend. I love you._ "

He felt more tears follow the first, but this time, he was smiling.

"Thank you, darling."


	6. Chapter 6 - Narcissa's Discovery

**Author Note: Hello! Sorry for the long wait! The song is "Think of Me" from Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera". I'm not quite intelligent enough to write my own. Hopefully after this, I'll be able to write more often. Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 6 - Narcissa's Discovery**

Narcissa Malfoy tiptoed through the darkened hall, heart heavy.

She was ashamed of the way her son had gone, following in her own husband's footsteps. The episode with the Dark Lord had showed her this more than she'd ever seen before.

She had desperately hoped, for a long time now, that Draco would become more than she or Lucius were, to rise above the petty traditions of pureblood society. Now, she'd watched as he proclaimed his desires, flaunted them eve, to his superiors, instead of asserting any self-control.

She paused outside the door, steeling herself, then rapped on it softly. Something had to be done. She would forbid him, perhaps, or convince him of her disappointment in him. The girl, she cared naught for.

The door swung open, and she was confronted by her own son, tall and cool. His clothes were rumpled, his shirt unbuttoned, cheeks flushed. He smirked when he saw her.

"Mother."

"Draco, what have you done?"

The pale blonde boy raised an eyebrow, merriment dancing in his eyes while his features remained calm. "I'm sorry," he drawled, suppressed laughter in his tone. "You are, unfortunately, interrupting a rather enjoyable _exchange_ between me and the Lovegood girl."

Narcissa bit her lip, tilting her head to look past her son, into the room. She spotted Luna, tangled in the rumple of bedclothes on her face on the bed, a mess of blonde curls and shaking shoulders.

"You cannot expect me not to do something, Draco," Narcissa hissed, as the girl on the bed gave a muffled whimper. "Your father might be proud of you, but you will never be a son to me!"

He shook his head in mock sadness. "I must apologize, mother, for failing you. Now, if you'll kindly excuse me, I have _business_ to attend to."

The door swung shut.

Narcissa stood, glued to the carpet, fighting herself.

There was the sound of a gleeful giggle, quickly muffled.

 _What?_ She crept closer, confused, and pulled out her wand, casting a quick _Sonoris_ on the door.

"Shh, Luna!" she heard her own son whisper, "she might still be out there!"

After a moment of silence, in which the woman scarcely dared to breathe, he spoke again.

"You know, Luna, you're _not helping_!"

Another giggle, this one louder. "Oh, Draco! It's just so funny! She thinks so awfully of you, and then she saw me and got so angry, I could feel it!"

"Yes. And it _doesn't help_ when you lie there, giggling, instead of pretending to be scared and hurt!"

"You know," Luna's voice was softer, and she wasn't laughing anymore. "You love her very much, don't you?"

Narcissa gasped slightly. She heard Draco sigh. "I don't know. After all those years, I hardly know what I'm doing anymore. Sometimes, I wish I could start over."

 _Is this my son?_

"Wipe that frown off your face, or it'll stay like that," Luna said. "Would you like me to teach you a song?"

"You can try. Don't know how good I'll be. Here, help me make up my bed first. Merlin, I hope we didn't scare mother too badly."

There was rustling, in which Narcissa allowed herself a few deep breaths, mostly of relief.

 _She's changed him. Maybe she isn't so crazy as everyone says._

She caught her breath when the girl's thin, clear voice reached her ears.

She was asking someone who was going far away to think of her fondly, and to remember her in love.

Narcissa slipped away, a smile on her worn face. Her son was learning to find himself in the midst of a war, of which he was on the wrong side. And he had a friend who could look past his faults and see the good inside him.

Her heart felt lighter than it had in many years.


	7. Chapter 7 - War Effort

**Author Note: Sorry for taking so long. The only reason I finished this chapter is because I have the flu right now.**

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 **Chapter 7 - War Effort**

A lone figure stood in the Manor drawing room that evening, the window at his back dark, the only light from the flickering fireplace.

The orange light threw his face into sharp relief, with the high cheekbones, bald head, white skin, and the absence of a nose replaced by two snake-like slits.

Tom Riddle stood with his eyes closed, as still as though he were made of marble.

Potter had been within reach. Mere yards away, in fact, and those bumbling fools had sent a raving lunatic after him instead of going themselves. The cowardly fools. They'd paid, and heavily, but he wasn't done with them yet. He needed all the fighters he could round up if they were going to win this war.

He'd kept his anger in check, mostly, because Potter was still on the loose, yet to be found, though Tom hoped it wouldn't be long. Surely a couple of teenagers stumbling about the countryside couldn't evade the Death Eaters for long.

He felt rather in the dark, however. Potter had been sighted at the Ministry, after wreaking havoc disguised under Polyjuice Potion.

Tom wanted, more than anything, to know why he'd risked an excursion into such a public place. Surely it wasn't for thrills. There must've been a good reason. But so far, he'd discovered nothing at all.

He winced as his mind was abruptly filled with a feeling of elation that only grew. _Potter._

Sometimes, he found he could catch glimpses into Potter's mind, especially when the boy was experiencing extreme amounts of emotion. He'd tried, often, to push his way into the boy's mind, but he'd only managed it once. What a mistake that had been! Potter's godfather had been killed by Bellatrix during the fight at the Ministry, but the Minister had also seen Voldemort himself, ending any sweet safe dreams he'd been harbouring that he'd not returned.

The elation changed to comprehension, and a blur of images swept through Tom's mind, the only one of which he could glimpse was an odd symbol drawn in an old book.

He sighed as the feeling disappeared. The symbol had looked familiar. He knew he should know what it was, but he couldn't remember.

Another thought forced its way into his head: the demented Lovegood girl who Draco had claimed. With the thought came guilt and anxiety.

Slowly, the connection to Potter faded, and Tom opened his eyes, not at all surprised to see the owner of Malfoy Manor approaching.

"Lucius," he said softly. "Do you wish to speak with me?"

"My lord," Lucius seemed angry. "I regret to inform you that one of our newest Death Eaters has been experiencing mysterious problems with his voice. He came downstairs this evening to speak with me, but is only able to emit violin music."

Tom smiled at the man. "You have investigated, I presume?"

"Yes, and in vain. I know of a potion that can change the speaker's voice, called the Volubilis Potion, but it is difficult to brew, and the outcome is a shift in voice tone."

"Perhaps the brewer was exceptional, then," Tom replied, and stepped closer to Lucius, who visibly held himself back from flinching. "It will likely wear off in time, Lucius. Do not let such pranks trouble you."

The blonde-haired man shuffled his feet, all anger gone, replaced by fear. "Yes, my lord."

"You must excuse me for changing the subject," Tom continued, turning to pace the room, "but I can't help but notice. You see, even a month ago, your son was weak and couldn't kill Dumbledore. I recall the night when Nagini had that stupid Muggle Studies witch for her dinner, he fell out of his chair in fright." Tom glanced back at the man, who was growing steadily paler. "Yet, he has surpassed all my expectations of him, and recovered magnificently, Lucius. He is becoming a man. You should be proud."

Lucius started, and let out a relieved chuckle "Yes, my lord. I had given up on him, but somehow, he pulled through."

"His performance the other evening was pleasant to hear. He is following in your footsteps in every way."

"Indeed." Lucius's smirk had returned, "I had hoped he would choose a rather more _respectable_ girl, however."

Tom turned to leave. "Perhaps he believes her easier to 'tame' if she is mad. Goodnight, Lucius." And he swept away down the dark halls.

Upstairs, two teenagers sat in the middle of the floor, leaning over a rough bowl filled with clear liquid, staring into it. The sound of violin music filled the room suddenly, and the boy rolled over laughing, hands clutched around his middle.

The girl reached over to pat him on the back, a pleased smile on her face. "That worked rather well, I think."

When he'd caught his breath, Draco looked at her, then back at the scrying bowl. "Operation 'Buggered Snake' is underway," he said in an announcer voice, drawing himself up grandly. "Mission One: successful. Now, what should we do next?"

Luna opened Advanced Potion Making, and flipped to a page, leaning over to show it to Draco. A moment later, he was rolling with laughter again, as Beethoven's Minuet in G filled the room. Being on the wrong side of the war might not be so bad after all.


End file.
